


you remind me of home

by eventheoretically



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eventheoretically/pseuds/eventheoretically
Summary: Post season 8 (Revelation) - Frank Dufresne finally finds a place where he belongs.





	you remind me of home

Title: you remind me of home

Summary: Frank Dufresne finally finds a place where he belongs.

-

The Meta is dead, Tex is dead, Church is- he doesn't one hundred percent understand what's going on with Church. But he knows that this particular fight is over.

And that leaves him, once again the odd man out, no idea where he's supposed to go from here.

Just an outside observer, not a soldier in any war, only trying to help both sides the best he can.

"Doc, go check on Wash, he seems like he's in pretty rough shape," Sarge tells him.

He nods, robotically following orders from whoever will give them.

Doc is checking his pupils for signs of a concussion when Wash asks. "Are you alright?"

The question takes him by surprise. "Well I'm not kidnapped anymore, so I guess things could be worse."

Wash cringes. "Yeah, uh, about that..."

Doc gives a hollow laugh. "It's over. And neither of us are Meta food, so let's just move on."

Wash smiles slightly, soft and melancholy. "Thank you."

Doc knows he means more than for the words, that he's remembering sliding off the cliff the same way Doc's remembering his heart racing, running towards the man in danger with single-minded focus, propelled by the instincts of a war medic.

Doc nods, smiling more genuinely this time. "I'm done, you're in shockingly good health for all that you've been through."

Wash looks like he wants to say something at that, but he stops himself before he can, thanking him again, and goes over to the Reds and Blues. Doc doesn't move to follow him, crouched in the snow a bit away.

When the UNSC shows up Doc watches, overlooked, as they question the teams, as Wash becomes part of the Blues.

When they finally set out on the next step of their journey Doc is still in the snow, unsure if he should go and help, or if he would be of any use at all. And when has he ever been of use really? Other than to O'Malley.

"Are you coming?" Wash yells over to him.

It's nice to be asked for once, not ignored or forcibly tugged in one direction or the other, but Wash is already blending into Blue Team in a way Doc never did. This morning Wash was their enemy and now they're taking him in like a stray.

Doc remembers being their enemy, even though some days (most days) he wishes desperately that he didn't. He remembers being the big bad in their story, not caring as much as he should have, because even before O'Malley they hadn't wanted him, he hadn't fit into the mess of a family they'd built.

He still doesn't fit. Will never fit. So he shakes his head. "No."

"Where will you go then?" He asks.

Doc doesn't know, there is no command chirping orders in his ear, no O'Malley to push him in one direction, no Freelancers dragging him around as their prisoner. It is his choice now, every step after this one is his and his alone.

It shouldn't feel so terrifying. It should feel like freedom.

Doc shrugs and Wash nods, seeming to accept the lack of answer as one. Frank Dufresne stands in Sidewinder, snow bloody in every direction, watching the Reds and Blues walk into the metaphorical sunset.

He goes the other way.

-

It takes three hours before he finds an outpost of civilization, a small way-station for travelers, a passenger ship docked to refuel.

Doc isn't sure he believes in God, or fate, or any of the things that he knows bring great comfort to so many others, but there is some twist in the road that points him towards Valhalla, that makes him use the last of his money to pay the pilot to take him to the old Red and Blue bases there.

When the ship lands he sees the corpse of the soldier he had once been sent to save, the last order he had been given, a trick, but an order nonetheless. Maybe that's why he's here, so unable to make his own choices at this point he just goes with the last one someone made for him.

He approaches the body with the intention to bury it, an apology for being unable to save Private Donut. As he gets close the body makes a noise, a low quiet groan he could almost miss.

"Hello?" Doc whispers, unsure if it's his mind playing tricks on him, taking the eerie quiet of Valhalla and inserting something to ease his mind.

The groan comes again, unmistakable from the body. The man, Donut.

"Are you-" He drops down beside him. "Are you alive?"

Another sound. Doc reaches forward and unclasps the other man's helmet, taking it off to reveal a face crumpled in pain, undoubtedly alive, if just barely.

"It's okay." Doc soothes, reflexively bring up a hand to smooth back the hair stuck to Donuts sweaty forehead, a fever obvious without even touching his skin. "You're going to be okay."

Once he had described his job to Church as making patients comfortable as they die, it's still true, for the most part, but today-

His last order was to save Private Donut of the Red Army, and well, that's what he's going to do.

" _Everything's going to be okay_."

-

The next few hours are a haze of blood, a lot of blood, rushed together supplies from both bases, more near misses then Doc would care to remember, Donuts breathing going shallow, heart rate dropping and Doc thinking he's failed again.

But he doesn't die. Despite everything, he doesn't die. For days Doc stays by his side as Donut sleeps fitfully through the worst of it, making low pained noises in his sleep.

"Everything's going to be okay." He repeats, again and again in the quiet of Red base.

And eventually- everything actually is okay.

-

It's the morning of the eighth day when Doc looks over from a book he had found in Simmons room and sees Donut watching him, shockingly lucid.

"Hello." He says, wishing he could remember all of the words he had practiced for when Donut woke up, how he would be comforting but professional, kind but detached.

Donut stares at him, eyes clear blue like the skies above Valhalla. "Hi."

"You were shot. I saved you." Doc blurts out, immediately regretting the blunt and callous words. He cringes. "Sorry I-"

"I know you don't I?" Donut interrupts, concentration creasing his brow. "The Medic from Blood Gulch. Doc."

Doc grins, something warm bubbling up in his chest, feeling like a teenage girl who had the quarterback remember her name. "Yeah, I mean- yes, that's me."

Donut frowns. "Why are you here? That guy shot me-" He shudders, breathing coming fast. " _He shot me_."

"I know," Doc says quietly, and he knows Wash is a good man, that he had his reasons for doing what he did, that trauma and loss did a number on his psyche. But he still wants to hate him at that moment for making Donut have that look of fear on his face. "But you're going to be okay."

Donut sucks in a deep breath, anxiety wide in his eyes. "How do you know?"

On pure impulse Doc reaches over and lays his hand over Donuts, smiling gently at the other man. "Because I'm going to make sure of it."

Donut looks down at the hand, Doc considers pulling it back but Donuts expression is almost soft, breathing calming slowly, he looks back at Doc after a long moment. "You're staying?"

"For as long as you need me." He promises.

Donut smiles properly and Doc is suddenly the one who needs to catch his breath.

It's terribly unprofessional.

-

In their days at Blood there hadn't been much time to talk, what with rogue AI's and freelancers and Red Team really not wanting him around. But now they are suddenly left with a surplus of time, and Donut manages to fill it easily with aimless chatter, the hours falling away unnoticed in the ebb and flow of conversation.

Doc learns a great deal about Donut in those days, that Donut is , effortlessly, charming and amiable, relaxing Docs nerves and easing through any conversational stumbles.

And more importantly to a medic, he heals very quickly.

Until finally one-day Donut is moving around the base and they both know he could leave now.

"Do you miss your team?" Doc asks abruptly.

Donut doesn't turn, still looking through Simmons things in search of bubble bath, but Doc sees the way his shoulders go stiff. "Yeah."

"I'm sure you can track them down, we have a radio here, you can use it to call for a ride."

Donut nods, still not looking at Doc. it seems really obvious suddenly that this is an opportunity, a fork in the road, he can either say what he means and possibly look like an idiot, or stuff the words down and always wonder.

"Or you could stay." Doc blurts out, face heating as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "I mean if you want- you could stay."

Donut looks at him finally, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Stay here? You mean with you?"

Docs face grows even hotter. "Yeah I mean you probably don't want to stay in Red base, but we could build a little shack, make a garden for renewable resources, maybe even set up some solar power..." He trails off nervously, without meaning to he's begun to plan a life there, a two-person life, setting himself up for disappointment.

Donut stares, confusion on his face. "You would really want me around?"

Doc knows those words, that feeling of doubt, of being rejected so many times it becomes the expected outcome so that anything else is met with distrust. As such Doc knows to put every ounce of sincerity he has his next two words, and luckily he has buckets of it. " _ **Of course**_."

Donut looks at him, a thoughtful crease between his brows. Scanning his expression for any hint of mockery. "You really mean it?"

"I do." Doc smiles. "The world can go on without us for a while, we could just take a break."

Donut frowns, cocking his head to the side. "For how long?"

For as long as you'll stay.

Doc shrugs.

-

Neither one of them want to stay in Red base a second longer then they have too, so they immediately decide to make a something simple outside and consistently improve on it.

They build their makeshift home over the course of a few days, Donut instructing it all with the authority of a man who has done this a thousand times.

"I'm a farm boy Doc." Donut tells him when he expresses his surprise. "And one on a particularly poor farm, you don't get out of that without learning how to keep your animals warm and dry with whatever you've got."

Doc grins. "We're animals now?"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've been called an animal," Donut says with a suggestive wink.

Oh god.

He's in trouble.

-

They decide it makes sense to share a bedroom, less effort, more materials for important things. No big deal.

They start with two small beds scavenged from the bases on either side of the room, a perfectly respectful distance.

Until Donut realizes Doc is still waking every night to check on him at least twice, then he insists that the beds be closer so Doc won't have to walk as far.

Then Docs bed moves because there's water dripping through his part of the ceiling.

And Donut moves because the window gives off a draft.

They are barely a foot apart after a week.

And then one night Doc wakes from a nightmare to find Donut sitting on his bed, hand in Docs hair and soothing him gently.

"Donut." He O'Malley oh god-

Donut smiles at him gently, a strange uncertainty in it, he brushes Docs cheek with his thumb and Doc leans into the soft touch.

That seems to be all the assurance Donut needs because he lays down beside Doc, one hand in his hair and the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. Doc curls towards the warm affection, wrapping his arms around Donuts waist with a boldness only sleepy disorientation can grant him.

Both of Donuts arms go around him, Docs face buried in the warm crook of his neck. "You're safe." Donut whispers into Docs hair.

"Are you?" Doc murmurs before he can stop himself, unable to shake off the feeling of a gun in his hand and O'Malleys pressure in his mind. Of not knowing what he could do, who he could hurt.

The question stills the circles on Docs back, they start back almost immediately. " _We're_ safe **,** " Donut says insistently. "The two of us here, we're safe."

Doc almost believes him.

-

The next day they move the beds side by side without a word about it.

Respectability damned.

-

"Doc!"

Donuts shriek echoes through their secluded area of Valhalla, Doc is on his twelfth day of trying to set up a stove from base in their shack, a bunch of cables hooked up to a generator fuelled by solar power, a class on renewable energy he took ten years ago hazy in his mind.

When he hears the voice his heart constricts with panic, everything feeling very expected, that of course as soon as they were close to settling in everything would go too hell.

But see the thing is about Doc, is that for all he can be a coward, being a medic in war times has programmed his body to rush towards where he is needed, fear be damned. He runs, grabbing a gun off the table out of a strange sort of instinct, a desire to protect outweighing his morality in a panicked instant.

He bursts outside, pistol poised at unseen enemies, the trigger under his finger so damnably familiar, so easily pressed once, a very long time ago.

"Doc?" Donut says quietly.

Doc spins and sees Donut crouched in the garden, dirty up to his elbows but entirely unharmed, watching him with a soldiers wariness, eyes tracking the gun in his hands.

"What?" Doc whispers. "But I- I thought?" He drops the gun to his side, feeling it's weight like concrete shoes dragging him down to the bottom of the ocean. "I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, I can't believe I just pointed a gun at you I-"

Donuts expression softens as the gun is lowered, going guilty as he realizes what happened. "No no no I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that, I should have known what you'd assume, I was just excited and-"

Doc forces a soft smile, dropping to his knees beside Donut, pushing the gun aside and focusing on the other man. "It's okay, we're okay, just- what's so exciting?"

Donut laughs nervously, looking away with a self-consciousness Doc knows is against his character, but that he's beginning to see clearly underneath the bravado and charm. "It's silly, just, I shouldn't have made such a big deal-"

On impulse Doc reaches out and lays a hand on Donuts muddy arm, smiling softly. "If it matters to you then it's important."

Donut stares at him, something vulnerable in his expression. "Really?"

"Of course." Doc insists, and he means it, knows he could care about anything at all if Donut did.

Donut watches him for another long moment, before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips, a chaste kiss, almost one that you might give to a friend, except for the way Donut leans back after and looks at him like he has his whole world in his hands.

There's no sudden epiphany for Doc, no realization of his feelings. He knows, has known for God knows how long, and the kiss just feels like another step along the way to somewhere he wants more than anything to be.

Doc leans in just as carefully as Donut did, kisses him just as innocently, but he feels Donut smile again his lips. He leans back and sees the happiness on his face, knows it has to be mirrored on his own. They sit there for a few seconds, both grinning like idiots.

"What were you so excited about anyway?" Doc asks eventually.

Donut bites his lip, turning towards their garden and pointing out a teeny tiny little green sprout. "I know it's insanely small but-"

" _We grew something_." Doc interrupts, awestruck beyond all reason. "We actually grew something."

Donut beams, eyes lighting up at Docs excitement. "I know-"

Doc will have to apologize later for interrupting him so many times, but he just has to kiss him, they grew a living thing, they're really doing this.

The kiss is deeper this time and they both end up a little muddy from Donuts hands in his hair, but in their little garden in Valhalla, nothing seems to matter but each other and a tiny green sprout.

-

Of course, just when things are going wonderfully that's when everything has to go to hell.

There's a part of him that's not even a little surprised when one day Simmons and Sarge show up, you can't run from your past forever, especially when you're standing still.

"Wow, look what the cat dragged in! And by dragged in I mean spit out like a hairball, hey guys!"

-

"So are you coming?" Simmons asks, looking at Donut expectantly.

Docs heart seems to plummet in his chest, breath coming too fast, the world shifting under his feet. He knew this would happen someday, he just still wasn't prepared.

Donut laughs. "No silly, the only one I'm coming with these days is Doc."

Doc cringes and Sarge makes a noise of disgust.

And then the words catch up with him.

Donuts not leaving. Donuts staying with him and not his team.

-

"So what are we?" Doc blurts out, Donut laying on his chest as they watch the stars above Valhalla, a clear night with not a sound except Doc overthinking everything like always.

Donut looks up and raises an eyebrow, perfectly plucked and as well put together everything else about his appearance. "Humans? At least I'm pretty sure we are."

Doc rolls his eyes affectionately. "Ha ha very funny, I mean- what is this? You and me?"

Donut curls his nose. "Do we really have to talk about that?"

"No." Doc rushes to answer. "No, we don't, but I just-"

Donut smiles and leans forward to softly kiss his when he leans away he looks at him with bared affection that makes Doc feel like the most important being in the universe. "You're my boyfriend, and I'm your boyfriend. I don't like, , picking stuff apart, so is that enough?"

Docs heart goes feather-light in his chest, a feeling of awe and contentment and a thousand other things he's never felt to put words too. "Yeah, that's enough."

-

Doc has had nightmares every single night for years, so long he cringes to think about it.

They used to be about O'Malley, about being taken and used again. And now sometimes they're still about O'Malley, about killing and destroying and- more often than not Donut's there. Standing between O'Malley and what he wants, never a safe position, and Doc needs to stop O'Malley but he can't and Donut keeps saying his name and he can't-

Then Donut is bleeding out on the ground, and sometimes O'Malley fired but sometimes it was Wash, Doc across the universe not knowing at the time what he could have lost.

And sometimes the gun isn't a gun and Doc is in control, it's pointed at the Meta and pacifism had been a nice until that moment.

He wakes up gasping for air, fumbling for Donut who is without fail already awake, soothing his fears away, brushing back his hair and kissing his tears, murmuring comforts. "I'm here. You're safe. I've got you."

It takes two months for him to realize that Donut's already awake because he has nightmares too.

-

It's unheard of occurrence for Doc to wake up in the middle of the night from anything but nightmares, but tonight it's a simple thing, the rain falling through a gap in their aluminum roof, dripping onto Docs forehead as he sleeps.

Doc doesn't even have a moment to grumble before he feels the body next to him shift, and seriously how does Donut immediately know when he's awake?

Answer: He doesn't. Doc rolls over and sees Donut still sleeping, squirming with a distressed look on his normally calm features, he's never seen Donut look so panicked, not ever.

Doc blinks, sleep still heavy in his mind. "Donut?"

" _Grif_." He . " _Wake up_." He shakes his head fervently. " _Oh god, oh god_."

Docs heart constricts, he leans over and touches his arm. "Donut. Wake up."

He whimpers. " _Think I got shot too_."

"Donut," Doc says more loudly, shaking him slightly.

" _Is it a spider?_ " There's a long moment of quiet and then Donut screams, waking with a start, hand flying to his scar, body shaking.

Doc sits up, startling Donut who's eyes snap to him, unfocused and confused, like for an instant he doesn't recognize him.

"Shhhh." Doc soothes, rubbing the other back gently. "I'm here. You're safe."

" **I know**." Donut snaps, entirely uncharacteristically, eyes still bleary and disoriented. "I-"

Doc puts his arm carefully around the other man, watching to see if he backs away, instead he leans into it, letting Doc pull him against his chest.

"It's just me," Doc says softly, one hand running through Donuts hair. "Shh, It's just me."

Donut relaxes almost instantly, falling against Doc like a deflated balloon. "I know- I- I know. Sorry."

"No apologies needed," Doc says almost sternly.

After a few long quiet moments Donut whispers. "There was a grenade."

Doc knows, but he's quiet, holding Donut close and letting him speak, first about the grenade and surgery and scars, then about the farm, his parents and brothers, about leaving for the army because it looked like freedom. About elbow grease and a flag, about a war that wasn't a war and a team that was his family.

Doc listens, drinking in every single word, grateful for the small pieces of Donuts life that he can get through his stories. When Donuts voice finally goes quiet the morning light is just beginning to shine through their curtains, he had been in the middle of a story about being "taken captive" by Caboose when his voice had trailed off into sleep.

Doc looks down at him, eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks, tanned skin and sleep messy blonde hair. He is beautiful and kind and brave, Doc has known all of this for a while now, but this moment- with the soft sunlight on his sleeping face, arms still wrapped tight around Doc. He knows that this was worth every step he took to get here, worth O'Malley even. Would still be worth it even if he lost everything this second.

-

It takes him a few weeks of prodding and encouraging before Donut agrees to wake him next time he has a nightmare.

That night Doc wakes to Donut softly whispering his name, voice choked and quiet. He turns to see his boyfriend curled up with his arms around his knees, tears coating his cheeks, watching Doc with a miserable and embarrassed expression.

"I'm sorry." Donut whispers. "I shouldn't have-"

Doc shushes him, sitting up to wrap his arms around the other man, smiling faintly when Donut leans into the embrace. "I want you to wake me, I want to be there for you."

The words seem to break the last of Donut's self-control, he sobs, turning into Doc and throwing his arms around him, burying his face in his neck.

"It's okay." Doc murmurs. "You're okay. I'm here."

Donuts hands wrap tightly in his shirt, body shaking like their roof during a rainstorm, barely able to hold itself together, but still not falling apart.

They hold each other like that for a long time, maybe hours, Doc whispering calming words and Donut holding him for dear life, until slowly Donut relaxes against him, grip going loose in his pajama top. After a long calm silence, Doc assumes he's asleep.

"I have trouble hearing. Not a lot, but some, from the grenade." Donut whispers abruptly.

That explains a lot, a bunch of little things Doc had brushed off as odd quirks suddenly show something else entirely.

Donut is loud, from his pink armor to his enthusiastic personality, he's a bold human being. He hadn't been surprised that Donut talks loudly, music loudly, sings loudly.

Repeating questions three times before Donut answers, brushing it off as his hyperactive boyfriend being easily distracted. How when they lie in bed together talking Donut lies on his left side, but when he sleeps he's on his right.

Strange little things and Doc suddenly feels like an idiot for not piecing them together, not noticing how hard Donut was working to appear like nothing was wrong.

"I'm sorry-" Doc says, Donut hushes him gently.

"I have nightmares about going deaf." Donut whispers into Docs shoulder. "I worry that something will happen to my other ear and I'll just be deaf forever. In my dreams everything's normal and then all of a sudden- nothing, and I'm trying to tell people but no one can understand me and I can't understand them and- and the world just goes on without me."

Donut takes a deep breath. "Like I've always been separate because -"

'Because I'm gay and all attempts I've made to downplay it just make it more obvious.' Doc finishes to himself, wrapping his arm more tightly around the other man.

"But-" Donuts breath hitches. "But then I'd actually be alone. I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone or understand or have friends or-" He breaks off with a shaky sob.

Doc feels his chest nearly rip apart at the words, the worry about being abandoned one that he knows so well. But for once, for once in his stupid life he has a solution. He grins pulling away from Donut enough so he can have a free hand, reaching up and signing. "No, you won't."

Donut stares and Doc is about to doubt himself, but Donut's face breaks into a megawatt smile like he's never seen before, eyes bloodshot and cheeks still wet with tears. "You know sign language?"

Doc blushes. "Yeah- yeah, I mean a bit, and I'm kind of rusty but..."

"Why?" Donut asks, still not looking away from his face.

"There was a kid in junior high, deaf, no one could talk to him and I thought that was dumb so I learned a few basic signs."

"And you became friends?" Donut asks.

Doc laughs. "No he was kind of an asshole, he signed that he'd rather have no friends then be stuck with me. But by then I knew a bit so I thought why not keep going with it? I was pretty decent for a while there-"

Donut kisses him softly, smiling gently when he pulls away. "You absolutely amaze me."

Doc swallows nervously, face flushing. Praise isn't something he's had a lot of in his life, he still doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

"I can teach you, if you want."

Donut grins. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course." Doc says and doesn't say 'I worry sometimes that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Nothing in the whole goddamn universe.'

-

They aren't fluent, a lack of knowledge combined with signs simplifying through laziness makes it more nonsense than actual sign language.

But it's their nonsense and they understand it, even though the rest of the world almost certainly wouldn't.

It probably wouldn't even be considered sign language in the real world, but their home in Valhalla- it isn't the real world, is a tiny shack with a leaky roof, is a small garden and Lopez the Scarecrow. Is the two of them entirely separate from 

And it's easy to slowly fall into using signs for little things, for morning and I love you and how is the garden? How are you? Kiss me?

Good morning, I love you too, It's beautiful, I'm happy, yes, _of course_.

It also shines a light on exactly how small their world is, how they are able to go entire days with their simple signs, to fall into patterns that don't need words, signs and smiles and gentle kisses, it is enough.

It is enough. It is enough. The sign for 'enough' is your right-hand brushing twice over your left fist. He's never needed it, but sometimes the motions twitch at his fingers, play through his mind on repeat.

Is Doc enough? Is this enough for Donut? Is their little world enough for a lifetime?

And he knows it's not. But it's enough for today he reminds himself, it's enough for today.

-

Donut dances when he cooks, it's not a surprise, Donut also dances when he brushes his teeth, when they when they go for walks- etcetera. So when they cook together for the first time and Donut starts bouncing around, music already playing, hips shimmying to the beat, Doc just grins.

Today there's an upbeat latin song on (Donut prefers bubblegum pop music but puts it on because he knows Doc likes it) and they're making bread.

Donut is completely in the groove leaving Doc to do most of the work, not that he minds when he gets to watch the other man dance, especially when he does this move where he lowers into a squat and spreads his legs and- hot damn.

Docs jaw drops a little bit. "Woah. Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

Donut looks up at him and his cheeks flush, he stands and runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip. "I. Um. It's-"

Doc frowns, Donuts not one to be bashful. "It's okay, you can tell me anything."

Donut grins a little at that, "I know it's just- have you ever been to a gay club?"

Doc blinks, well that's an abrupt question. "No, no that's really not my sort of thing."

Donut frowns. "Guys?"

Doc gives him an incredulous look. "No, what? Of course guys are my thing, I'm dating a man Donut. I meant clubs, dancing and all that."

Donut laughs, picking a bit of flour off the counter to flick at him. "I don't know! You'd be surprised how deep some people can be in the closet!"

Doc almost chokes laughing when Donut coughs something that sounds suspiciously like "GrifandSimmons".

Eventually, when Docs laughter dies down and Donut's own giggles have subsided, Doc looks over at him. "So?"

Donut sighs, leaning against the counter and looking at Doc with nervous eyes. "I used to be a stripper."

Doc blinks and okay now he's laughing again. Of course Donut was a stripper, he is a performer to his core and thrives on attention, no job could be more perfect for him.

"Why are you laughing?" Donut asks, shoving his shoulder teasingly. "This is a very personal confession!"

Doc attempts to stem his laughter. "I know I know, just-" It doesn't work.

Donut smirks and pounces, throwing his arms around Docs neck and kissing him deeply. Doc grins against his lips, boyfriend not shutting up? Just kiss him!

Ten very busy minutes later Doc asks, "So how did you become a stripper?"

Donut blushes a bit. "Well, basically they realized I wasn't going to keep my clothes on no matter what, so they might as well hire me."

“Oh my god.” Doc laughs, absent of any derision, Donut laughs too. “I adore you.”

-

Doc has taken up knitting, using the radio to order a bunch of yarn, making scarves and cozies and ridiculous sweaters Donut will cheerfully wear come winter.

It's one of the few hobbies they don't indulge in together, Donut doesn't have the patience for it as much as he tries, but he likes watching Doc knit, getting lost in the repetitive motions, sometimes chatting amicably.

Today Donut is restless, sitting with his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, watching Doc with a lost sort of expression. Eventually, after a few false starts, he blurts out, "I miss my team."

Doc pauses, knitting needles stopping mid-stitch. He had been waiting for this. "I know you do."

Donut's jaw tightens, looking away from Doc miserably. "I miss my team and I miss the Blues and I miss Blood Gulch."

Docs heart constricts. To him, Blood Gulch is an AI stealing his free will, is rejection and isolation and constantly not being good enough. For Donut, it's family and playful teasing and adventure. "I know you do."

Donut falls backward to the floor with a soft thud, laying on his back looking up at the ceiling. "You don't miss them at all, do you?"

Doc sighs, carefully setting aside his soon to be . He slides off the couch and lays beside Donut. "Not really no, but I understand why you do."

Donut turns, laying on his side, body nearly flush against Docs. His hair falls almost artfully across his handsome features, the white of his scar more prominent from months of soaking up the sun. "I'm happy here though, you know that right?"

Doc smiles helplessly, heart racing. "Of course."

Donut beams, linking their fingers together companionably. "Good."

A happiness beyond anything Doc has ever known warms his chest. He's happy, but more than that he's content, he could stay here for the rest of his life without issue.

But he knows Donut couldn't, knows his boyfriend has a restless soul. He'll leave someday. Probably someday soon. But it won't be today.

"Good."

-

"Donut," Doc says abruptly one night, Donut is reading with his head in his lap, while Doc strokes his hair and thinks idly.

Donut lowers the book and grins up at him. "Yes, sweetheart?"

The warm feeling in his chest at the casual nickname is almost enough to calm his sudden realization, but not quite. "What's your real name?"

How could he not know? All the stories and he never once asked. He's a terrible boyfriend, just awful, an absolute wretch and he doesn't deserve Donut in the least.

"Franklin," Donut says, still smiling casually.

Doc blinks, losing the self-loathing thought process in his surprise. "Really? My name is Frank."

Donut laughs, smile widening. "Seriously? Oh my god, soulmates."

And Jesus if that word doesn't make Docs stomach flutter like a teenager in love.

"Do you want me to call you Franklin?" Doc asks.

Donut crinkles his nose. "Ew no thank you."

Doc laughs and Donut pauses, expression abruptly serious. "Do you want me to call you Frank?"

Doc considers that. Considers all the years since he has been Frank Defrane, even in his own mind. He could reclaim the name, rebuild himself here, with Donut.

Except he doesn't feel like he needs to be rebuilt, he feels whole already.

"No. No, I think I'm good." He smiles, gently stroking Donuts hair. "Thank you though."

Donut grins, leaning up to kiss him softly. He falls back looking pleased.

-

"I think I might be in love with you," Doc says one day as they pull the weeds from the garden, dirt streaks Donuts cheek and the words come easy.

Words never come easy for Doc, every sentence needs to be labored over, weighing the necessity, the pros cons, any offense he may cause. But Donut- Donut speaks frivolously, throws words in the air and doesn't bother looking back at the impact. Maybe it's rubbing off on him a little bit.

Donut looks over, a beautiful sun-baked tan, nearly glowing gold in the sun. He grins, easy, sweet, teeth white like a camera flash against his skin. "Yeah?"

Doc nods, the first twists of anxiety curling in his stomach. It hadn't felt like much when he said it, casual, but now it feels significant in the weight of Donuts silence, he's about to apologize.

"That's good because I might be in love with you too," Donut says, it sounds effortless.

That's how it is between them, just- effortless.

Doc beams, looking back at the weeds to hide how his heart is soaring in his chest. "Good. That's... good."

He hears Donut laughs, feels a hand brush gently through his hair. He knows that he loves him, knows with every fiber of his being. He wouldn't say it if he didn't, there is no might or maybe.

He's sure Donut knows that because Donut knows him.

-

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: no one in the universe makes spring rolls like you." Doc declares at dinner, grinning over the table at Donut, homemade candles cast a flattering light on his always handsome features.

Donut smiles bashfully at the praise, still so unaccustomed to it. "Wait till you meet my mom, hers are to die for."

It's a casual thing, simple, but the words hold a promise, of a future and meeting the parents and maybe buying a house and loving each other for years and years. Doc never really found time to plan his future, there medical school and war, then the Reds and Blues, then Donut. But a future with him, just the two of them together, it fits.

Doc nods. "I look forward to it."

And that's a promise too.

-

It's eight am and they're watering the garden when the emergency radio suddenly cuts in.

"Mayday..." static. "...survivors of a shipwreck..." static. "...please respond."

There's a part of Doc, tiny and illogical, that wants to take his shovel to the radio right that second, to stop anything from cutting into their idyllic little life.

Donut is already up and running towards the radio.

Doc follows.

-

The Reds and Blues need them.

Donut stares down at the radio for a long moment, quiet and still, bottom lip caught anxiously between his teeth.

Doc watches him, silent through it all, as though he were intruding on a private moment, for all they had built a life together Donut was still ultimately loyal to his team.

It's almost ten minutes and the radio is still crackling when Donut looks up, eyebrows together. "I need to go help them."

Doc nods, he knows, knows Donut could never leave someone in danger, let alone his teammates. "Okay, give me an hour to pack some supplies."

Donut blinks. "You're coming with me?"

Doc frowns. "Of course, unless you'd prefer I don't in which case we'll have an issue because I'd really rather you not go alone and-"

Donut throws himself into Docs arms, hands clasped behind his neck. He kisses Doc, sweet and demanding.

He leans back and Docs a little breathless, Donuts smile is incandescent. "I might be more than just a little bit in love with you."

-

They leave Valhalla the next morning, unable to pry themselves away a moment sooner, the shack a small safe haven as they once again walk into war.

"We'll be back," Donut says confidently.

But Doc doesn't have Donuts endless confidence, doesn't have the positivity that radiates through his bones. He tries though, he really does. "We'll be back." Doc echoes, words sounding flimsy even to his own ears.

They stand in hand in hand in front of the shack, looking sombrely at the closest thing Doc has ever had to a home.

As they walk away he sees Donut open and closes his hand then bring his fingers and thumb together and touch his cheek, moving it towards his ear and to his cheek again. It's a sign, "Goodbye home."

And Doc knows for all Donuts optimism, he thinks this is goodbye too, he copies the sign and they look at each other for a moment, both knowing this is the end of something they didn't want to end, a fairy tale, two kids playing house.

They walk into the ship and they both can't help but look back.

 


End file.
